Homecoming
by mykindofparty
Summary: The crowd at the football stadium cheered as Quinn was crowned homecoming queen, but in the parking lot, Santana and Brittany only had eyes for each other. AU. Brittana. Quick. Unholy Trinity friendship. ON HIATUS.


**Homecoming**  
**Pairings:** Brittany/Santana, Quinn/Puck, various  
**Genre:** Romance, Humor  
**Summary:** The crowd at the football stadium cheered as Quinn was crowned homecoming queen, but in the parking lot, Santana and Brittany only had eyes for each other. AU.  
**A/N:** Part 1 of 3.

* * *

Part 1: The Game

* * *

_Fall 2011_

Santana Lopez was the smartest teenager in Lima, Ohio. At least that's what all the standardized test scores said. But considering she went to school with a bunch of nimrods who couldn't tell Manet from Monet much less a Whopper from a Big Mac, being the smartest teen in Lima, Ohio didn't feel like much of an accomplishment.

Another thing that made Santana stand out amongst her peers was her housing situation. She lived out past the railroad tracks near the Holier Than Thou Cemetery in a trailer park called Lima Heights, which was regularly featured on _Ohio's Most Wanted_.

Times were tough for the Lopezes. Santana's mother, Maribel, worked as a receptionist at the local dermatology office. It wasn't the most glamorous job by any means, and it hardly paid the bills, but Dr. Freelander had made it abundantly clear that she'd always have a place at his practice. He was deeply in love with Maribel, but she never returned his affections. Or his gifts. Instead, she preferred unemployed losers that drank her beer and pocketed the few valuables she possessed. The men she dated were usually closer to her daughter's age than her own.

Despite only being eighteen years apart, Santana never had a close relationship with her mother. Perhaps it was because Maribel tried to be more of a friend than a parental figure and that somehow felt _wrong_. Or maybe the better explanation was that they never discussed someone Santana had been missing her entire life: her father. Santana had no clue who he was and suspected her mother didn't either.

Whenever Santana imagined her father, she pictured him as a doctor. And not a dermatologist like Dr. Freelander, who examined moles all day. In her mind, her father was in Africa, searching for cures to deadly diseases and learning different dialects and customs, all while saving orphaned animals from ravenous hyenas.

But even though her dreams took her father all over the world, there was one place she couldn't picture him and that was in Lima. She knew deep down in the bottom of her heart they may never meet. However, that didn't stop her from wanting to visit all of the fantastic, faraway places she imagined.

She was in the middle of one of her daydreams when her mother and her mother's current boyfriend stumbled into the doublewide. They reeked of booze and cigarette smoke and the commotion jolted her out of her stupor.

"Why're you starin' at the TV set? It ain't even on, girl," her mother's boyfriend said as he rummaged through the fridge for a Dos Equis he didn't buy.

"Can't watch anything," Santana replied, "the cable bill didn't get paid this month. So I'm trying to channel enough energy to power it with my mind."

He snorted. "You got some imagination, kid."

Santana snatched the beer out of his hand and took a long swig before placing it on the far side of the couch, out of his reach. "Didn't we take geometry together?" she asked, although she knew they hadn't. If she remembered correctly, he had been a senior when she was a freshman… and a sophomore.

Maribel laughed, taking a seat on the pullout couch that doubled as Santana's bed. "Did you eat a good dinner, sweetie?" she asked her daughter.

"I had a Hot Pocket."

"The kind with vegetables?"

"Yes ma'am."

Maribel smiled. "Good. That's good. I'm gonna pay that bill tomorrow, sweetheart."

"I know, Mama," Santana said softly. "I know."

…

On the other side of town, Dudley Road to be exact, Quinn Fabray sat quietly in an antique dining chair and listened as the rest of her family discuss her sister's engagement. She sipped her champagne and ignored the resentment that bubbled up inside her as her mother fawned over the ten karat ring perched on Frannie's slim finger. Frannie hadn't even finished college yet, but that apparently didn't matter to Russell and Judy.

Quinn, quite frankly, was used to living in her family's shadow. Her father owned half the buildings in Lima and her mother and sister had held just about every title with the word 'queen' in it. The Fabrays were practically Lima royalty – if there was such a thing.

But Quinn didn't feel like a queen. Sure, she was the most popular girl in school, but that didn't seem to impress her mother as much as it had when Frannie ruled McKinley. Frannie was the spitting image of Judy Fabray; they had the same dimpled pageant smile and soft, angelic blonde hair that never strayed out of place. Quinn had glasses until middle school and golden locks that she had just recently learned to manage.

"So will you, Quinnie?"

She snapped to attention. "Will I what?" she asked.

"Be my maid of honor, of course," Frannie said with a rich, melodious laugh.

Quinn frowned. They weren't _that_ close. Plus Quinn was certain Frannie had at least a dozen of her sorority sisters vying for the job. She was also willing to bet they'd be sorely disappointed if Frannie chose her biological sister instead of one she paid for.

No. She was not going to do it. Not on her life.

"She'll do it," her mother answered for her.

"I don't–" Quinn began.

"You have no idea how much this means to me, Quinn," Frannie said, squeezing Quinn's arm.

Just like that she was trapped, committed to something without having a say in the matter.

Quinn poured herself another glass of champagne and wished she could disappear.

…

Brittany Pierce's life amounted to a hill of beans.

At least that's how she felt every day as she teetered across the vast fields of her family's farm on a rusty John Deere. She had driven a tractor since the time she could see over the steering wheel, but at seventeen years old she hadn't once driven a car. There was something unsettling about travelling faster than the Deere could take her and she hated leaving the farm if she could help it.

The one exception was when her parents took her to the local cinema, which was usually once a month and only if the combine wasn't in need of repair or the unpredictable Ohio weather wasn't threatening to uproot everything they had planted.

Because she was homeschooled, it was one of the few times she saw people her own age – though she rarely interacted with them. Once, when she was getting popcorn at the concession stand, a boy asked her for her phone number only to be shooed away by her father while his friends teased him mercilessly. It was then that she realized her parents were the closest thing she had to friends.

She didn't know why it upset her so much.

It wasn't like she knew any differently.

…

Santana yawned in her fourth period Home Economics class. It was a nice break from all of her AP courses, but the downside was that any of her classmates could also take it as an elective.

"I'll show you my Tinky Winky if you show me your Laa-Laas."

Like this dumbass.

His name was Finn Hudson.

"Clever," Santana retorted.

Every day, he came up with a new pickup line. Perhaps they worked on the pea-brained cheerleaders whose attention spans were shorter than their skirts, but Santana knew better than to fall for that crap.

"Wait, wait! I'm not done. Then we can take a Dipsy in the Po."

"I'd rather give a flea bath to the homeless guy in front of the library," Santana said.

Mrs. Hagberg, the ever-disgruntled Home Ec teacher placed Santana's grade sheet on her desk. "Miss Lopez, I particularly enjoyed your needlepoint. Home _is_ where you park it."

"Yep. That's my catchphrase." Santana looked at her grade. "A minus?"

"You dropped a few stitches."

Santana sighed. "You're killing my average, Mrs. H."

Just then, Principal Figgins' voice came on over the intercom. "Children, this is a reminder that today is the last day to cast your votes for your Homecoming Court. The ballot boxes can be found in the cafeteria and the winners will be announced during halftime at tonight's football game. I am also told that tomorrow's festival starts at noon, followed by the dance at eight o'clock sharp. Go Titans. That is all."

Mrs. Hagberg grunted. "I'm selling my homemade pies tomorrow so if you all want A's, you'd better buy one," she announced to the class. As grumpy as Mrs. Hagberg always looked, she was actually a pretty nice person. She seemed to like Santana at least. Oddly enough, the feeling was kind of… mutual.

"I'll stop by," Santana said.

"I'll be there too," Finn grinned. "All part of my duty as homecoming king."

It always amazed Santana that this douchebag was popular. Then again, everyone at her school was an idiot. "What makes you so sure you'll win?" she asked, although it was a given that he would. The competition was slim. His best friend, Sam Evans, was only a junior and the school bully, Dave Karofsky, was on offensive line whereas Finn was starting quarterback.

Finn winked at her. "Oh, I'm gonna win. Not that it matters to me or anything, but Quinn Fabray's a shoo-in for queen."

Santana was well aware of Finn's crush on Quinn. Once at a party, he told Santana time if he couldn't have that pampered princess he'd at least settle for third base with Santana, who poured her drink on him in response. "Good luck with that," Santana said dryly. "I hear she's into college guys."

"Kind of like your mom?" said Finn.

Santana made sure Mrs. Hagberg wasn't looking and then flipped him off.

…

Quinn's phone buzzed for what seemed like the millionth time. Her sister had been texting her all day with questions about floral arrangements and hairstyles. Sure, Frannie was an overachiever, but she'd only made the announcement _last night_. Everything Quinn had seen on television led her to believe that planning these things took time. What was the big rush?

Quinn looked at her sister's latest text message.

_Your friend Rachel – she eats fish, right?_

_NO,_ Quinn replied.

_Just checking,_ Frannie wrote back. _Some days she's vegan, some days she's vegetarian, and today I thought I saw her scarfing down a burger outside Wendy's. How was I supposed to know?_

Another text message popped up, this time from her boyfriend. _Why does your sister have my phone number?_

Puck was hot and pissed her parents off – and okay, maybe that's why she started dating him, but she had actually grown rather fond of him. He graduated the year before and cleaned pools for a living. In fact, that was how they met. He was cleaning the Fabray's hot tub and Quinn's mother warned her not to bother him while he worked. So of course she went outside the first chance she got and introduced herself. They'd been together ever since, even though they still hadn't gone all the way.

Frannie's name flashed across Quinn's screen again. _But does she like chicken?_

Quinn shoved her calculus book to the side. It didn't look like she was going to get any homework done during this study hall.

…

"Brittany, do you know the answer?"

Brittany sat straight up. "Um…" She hated being put on the spot, but considering she was taught from the comfort of her own living room, she couldn't exactly wait for the instructor to leave her alone and call on someone else.

Her tutor was a woman named Holly Holliday whom her parents hired once it was evident that the curriculum was a bit too advanced for either of them to teach. Brittany was quite gifted in math and science and it wasn't long before her parents were struggling to catch up.

"4_n_ + 2?" she guessed.

"Nice try, Chickadee, but we've moved onto Health and Wellness," Holly told her.

Brittany groaned. This was her least favorite class. Originally her parents were reluctant to let her learn about… reproduction, and Brittany secretly agreed. She didn't have any friends, much less a boyfriend. But Holly had insisted, telling her parents that eventually she would need to know and that it was better to learn this way than the hard way.

"Want me to repeat the question?" Holly asked Brittany, who nodded. "Okay, what are the most effective ways to avoid an STD?"

"Abstinence," she replied. She'd been abstinent her entire life and at the rate she was going, that wasn't likely to change anytime soon. "Don't share needles, get examined regularly, and limit your number of sexual partners."

"That's right," Holly beamed. "But you're forgetting something – condoms." Then she held one up for her pupil to see. "Time to learn how to put one on."

Brittany blushed. "You're not going to show me with your mouth or anything, are you?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Holly laughed. "Seriously though… it might not be on any test, but if you can master that you'll definitely be thanking me a few years down the road."

…

"C'mon, I play so much better when I'm relaxed."

Sam Evans was an alright guy. Santana had hooked up with him on numerous occasions and while he didn't have much game, he was still smart enough not to use the fucking _Teletubbies_ as a pickup line. He was also kind of nice. He gave her rides to Lima Heights after school sometimes even though it was out of his way.

"How bad do you want it?" Santana teased. They were sitting in his truck in the school parking lot. It was risky doing it out here in the open, but sometimes Sam's adventurous side took her by surprise.

"Real bad," he pleaded. "It's been almost a month."

She was up for it, of course, but watching him beg was much more fun. "Not my fault you've been busy with football," she said, inspecting her nails.

Sam grabbed her hand. "Please?" he pouted, sticking his lips out as far as they'd go.

Santana glanced around the parking lot. Everyone was gone. "Fine," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a joint. "Got a light?"

…

When Quinn got home from school, Frannie was there waiting for her. "Hydrangeas or chrysanthemums?" Frannie asked before Quinn could even set her backpack down.

Truthfully, Quinn didn't care. She'd had a long day of people sucking up to her by telling her that they were voting for her. Even her teachers seemed nicer than usual. It was exhausting. "Sorry, but I need a nap."

"You're my maid of honor, Quinnie; you're supposed to help me."

"Why? It's not like you're getting married tomorrow," Quinn said.

Frannie looked down at the ground, not meeting her sister's eyes.

Quinn gasped._ "Seriously?"_

"I know it's sudden…" Frannie began.

"When were you going to tell me?" Quinn demanded. "As I was walking out the door on my way to the dance?"

"No!" said Frannie. "We'll be done in time for you to go, I swear. I just… don't have much of a choice."

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked.

"I'm going to start showing soon," Frannie confessed. "Mom and Dad arranged to have the wedding and the reception here. Just immediate family and a few friends. Then Cooper and I are moving in until the baby is born."

…

Finally finished with her outside chores, Brittany dusted herself off before stepping foot inside the house. She and her father were done harvesting most of their crops, but the work wasn't over yet. Halloween was approaching and the pumpkin patch still needed tending.

They also had to sort which vegetables were going to be sold and which ones they were going to keep. It was tedious work and Brittany's least favorite part of the harvest season.

Brittany joined her mother and Holly in the dining room. In addition to teaching, Holly helped out around the farm wherever she could in exchange for room and board. She claimed she liked being surrounded by nature, but Brittany suspected she would feel lonely cooped up in an apartment all by herself.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Holly joked.

"You wouldn't be sayin' that if you saw what Lord Tubbington left on my kitchen floor," Brittany's mom replied.

"So kiddo," Holly said, "I think I'm going to need a helper for tomorrow. You interested?"

"Me?" Brittany asked. "You want me to help out with the festival booth?"

"These veggies aren't going to sell themselves," Holly replied. "Besides, it could be_ highly_ _educational_."

Brittany thought about it for a second. "The football game's tonight too. That could also be… informative. Y'know, statistics."

"_You_ want to go to a football game?" Her mom asked.

Brittany shrugged. Anything to get out of sorting vegetables.

"How do you plan on getting there?"

"Holly can take me," she said. She wasn't about to drive herself there on the tractor. She wasn't that much of a freak.

"I guess my slam poetry brainstorming session can wait," Holly said. "I'm in."

Brittany grinned. It was about time she learned to leave the farm.

…

After getting high with Sam, Santana had no desire to make the three mile trek back home so she decided to grab an early dinner at Breadstix. She finished her meal in complete silence and was unaware how long she'd been sitting there until a waitress tapped her on the shoulder.

"Look, I'm all for legalizing it, but you smell like Sandy Ryerson's basement… and that's not a good thing."

"Fuck off," Santana told her, not really caring. "Wait, you've been in his basement?"

Sandy was Lima's most flamboyant drug dealer. He mostly sold to McKinley students and teachers. Sometimes he even held wake and bakes at his house before school. There was a certain amount of trust involved, of course, which led Santana to believe this chick might not be so bad after all.

"Yeah," the waitress said. "I'm Tina… we have AP Lit together."

"That's right! You're the one who pays attention," Santana laughed. "I don't have to, personally. I'm fucking brilliant."

Tina shook her head. "If you don't leave soon, I'm pretty sure my manager's going to have you banned for life."

"Fine, but we'll see who's laughing when I own this place one day," Santana said.

Then she sauntered outside, not bothering to pay the bill.

…

Once Quinn finally ditched her sister after making up some bullshit excuse about needing tampons, she was able to leave the house in peace. She decided to go to the mall because she had a little time to kill before she needed to get ready for the football game. As a homecoming queen nominee, she was exempt from cheering, but that also meant she had to come in her dress for halftime.

Quinn sighed as she sat down in the food court. Somehow her sister had managed to overshadow was_ supposed_ to be her shining moment.

She was furious with her family too. Her parents had to have known about the baby. Suddenly, it hit her. _That's_ why they were so excited about the engagement. How embarrassing would it be if one of their daughters had a child out of wedlock?

Quinn stood back up and headed for the hair salon on the other side of the mall. She was determined to uphold the family legacy tonight – but she was going to do it her way.

When Quinn's stylist turned her around so she could face the mirror, she almost didn't recognize herself.

This Quinn had choppy, bright pink hair.

…

"Holly?" Brittany asked as they headed out to the football stadium later that evening. "Do you mind slowing down?"

Holly wasn't the best driver; she considered most traffic signs optional and claimed she hadn't worn a seatbelt since 1997. "I thought you were totally psyched for this game!" Holly said knowingly. "I know how serious you are about your… statistics."

Brittany didn't reply.

"I'm just saying," Holly continued, "You've never really shown any interest in football before. Makes me wonder if it has anything to do with our little talk earlier."

Okay, Brittany did have _a_ friend. But Holly was also like her sister. A weird sister who was almost her parents' age. More like an aunt? Maybe there wasn't an exact term for what Holly was to her. "Not really," Brittany lied.

Who was she kidding? It had everything to do with their talk earlier. It occurred to her that this was technically her senior year and she had almost no memories to show for it.

"Chickadee, I will not blame you if you want to stare at a bunch of seventeen year olds in tight pants and shoulder pads. I'm going for chili cheese fries and single fathers, whichever I find first."

The great thing about Holly was that she kept Brittany's secrets like they were her own. Brittany's parents had no idea Brittany brewed her own moonshine. They just thought it was one of her science experiments and stayed out of the tool shed, but when Holly stumbled upon her operation, she saw it as an opportunity. Brittany made it, Holly sold it, and they split the profits. They called it _Lima Lightning_.

"How tight are their pants exactly?" Brittany asked out of curiosity.

"It's illegal for me to say," Holly said with a wink.

…

"Do you ever think about what you could accomplish if you weren't under the influence of drugs all the time?" Mr. Schuester, the Spanish teacher, asked one of Santana's stoner classmates. After Breadstix, she'd headed back to the previously empty parking lot, which was now full of tailgaters.

"Not really, man," Brett replied, clutching his red Solo cup in one hand and hiding his bong behind his back with the other. "Do you?"

Santana slipped past them unnoticed and made her way over to her usual crowd. Considering them her friends was a bit of a stretch, but she could tolerate most of them and they always supplied the booze.

"Heads up, guys. Schue's on high alert," Santana warned. She paused. "No pun intended."

Next to her, The Mack laughed. "Wasn't your mom his rebound after his divorce?"

Santana scowled and discretely poured her beer into a cup. "I could hear his dirty talk from my sofa bed."

Right on cue, Mr. Schuester passed by the group. Santana breathed a sigh of relief until he decided to backpedal. He snapped his fingers when he saw her. "Santana? Be sure to tell your mother I said hello."

Then he left.

"He's such a dickhead," Santana said, taking a huge gulp of beer.

"At least he looked the other way 'cause that's definitely not apple juice in your cup!" De'Wanda said.

"If he said something about it, I would've just mentioned how he likes his thumb sucked."

"You're one fucked up little brainiac, you know that?" The Mack told Santana.

Santana finished her drink. "Don't remind me."

…

The New Quinn Fabray strolled out of the Lima Mall and sent her boyfriend a text message asking him to meet her at the nearest motel. _And bring condoms,_ she added.

…

"Welcome to high school, Chickadee," Holly said as they entered the parking lot. The game started a few minutes ago, but there were still plenty of students wandering around outside the stadium. "It's homecoming weekend, so if any guys with beer bellies start talking to you, back away slowly. If you see a cop, ditch your cup. Got it?"

"I've seen every episode of _One Tree Hill. _I think I can handle this," Brittany said.

Holly nodded. "Okay… just one more thing: try not to lose your underwear. You never know where it will turn up."

Brittany gulped. Maybe she wasn't ready after all.

"I'm kidding," Holly added. "Besides, your name's sewn into all of your panties. They'll find their way back to you. Probably." Holly gave her a hug and slipped something into her back pocket. "Here's a twenty in case your new friends steal your purse."

…

"Did that blonde lady just feel up that girl's ass?" Brett wondered aloud. Everyone, including Santana, turned in his direction. "No, they're over there!" he pointed out, but by the time they looked, there was nothing incriminating to see. Brett shook his head and decided that maybe he should introduce himself. The older woman took off towards the football field, but the girl stuck around. "Hey. I'm Brett," he said.

"I'm Brittany," the girl replied.

"Brett and Brittany! We'd make a lovely pair."

"Pair of what?" Brittany deadpanned.

Brett laughed. "You should come hang out with us."

He led her over to the group and pulled a beer out of the cooler for her. "Wait, you're not from _21 Jump Street_, are you?"

"No," Brittany replied.

"Good enough for me. Everyone, this is Brittany. She's not a cop," Brett said with a shrug, handing her the drink.

"Thanks, but I'm kind of in the mood for something stronger," Brittany said.

Brett wiggled his eyebrows. "What did you have in mind?"

Brittany reached into her purse. "Have you guys ever heard of _Lima Lightning_?" She took out a Mason jar and passed it around for everyone to try.

"This tastes like battery acid," De'Wanda said, passing it to her left. "It's pretty good though."

Santana sniffed it. "Moonshine," she said. "Where did you get it?"

Brittany smiled proudly. "I made it myself. And there's more where that came from. I'm going to be selling it at the festival tomorrow. Behind the tent, of course."

"Dude!" Brett exclaimed. "That is beyond brilliant. Watch out, Santana, it looks like we've got more than one genius in our midst."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Everyone's a genius compared to you, Brett." She glanced over at Brittany almost shyly. "Maybe I'll drop by."

"So Brittany," The Mack said, "What else do you do like to do?"

"I grow my own pot," Brittany said. She noticed what appeared to be a love-struck look on Brett's face. "I'm just joking," she told him.

"That's a shame. I was about to propose," he replied. "Wait – do you a have a boyfriend? Is he gonna beat me up for saying that?"

"It's okay. I don't have a boyfriend," Brittany said, fidgeting with her purse again. "But I can – I can put a condom on with my mouth."

Santana's eyes widened. Who was this girl? And where the _fuck_ did Brett find her?She coughed. "Excuse me, what school did you say you go to?"

"She's not from any school! She's from heaven," Brett grinned.

"You're kind of right," Brittany told Brett.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "And you're an angel."

…

Quinn and Puck finished up just in time to get dressed and make their way over to the stadium. At first, nobody paid her any attention until the other homecoming queen candidates began to whisper.

As her escort, Puck accompanied her onto the field. "You look beautiful," he told her, kissing her cheek and squeezing her hand in reassurance.

"My parents are gonna flip," she said, clutching him tightly.

"On the bright side, if they kick you out you can always come live with me," Puck joked.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Get real. They'd never do that… I think."

"Attention, can I have your attention please? Stop booing," Principal Figgins said, microphone in hand. He stood in the middle of the field. "I am here to announce your homecoming king and queen. Please do not boo me any longer. Thank you."

After reading off all of the nominees, Principal Figgins paused for dramatic effect. Quinn looked over at Finn Hudson, who had a smug smirk plastered on his face. His football uniform was drenched in sweat. Apparently pink hair only made her even more desirable to him.

"Your homecoming king is… Finn Hudson," Principal Figgins announced.

Finn did a fist pump and went up to accept his crown.

"And now the moment some of you have waited eighteen years for. William McKinley High School, your new homecoming queen is… Quinn Fabray."

The crowd burst into applause, but somehow, the victory didn't mean as much to Quinn as she thought it would.

…

"Alright, now inhale."

Brittany sucked on the joint as hard as she could.

"Hold it there… don't exhale yet."

That was her third hit and she was starting to feel lightheaded. Brittany closed her eyes.

The next thing she knew, she was throwing up and Santana was kneeling next to her, holding her hair back. "Fuck! Brett, I think she swallowed some smoke."

Brett rubbed Brittany's back. "My poor angel princess," he cooed. "I got you some water. I should've known it was your first time gettin' high off anything other than heaven's pillowy clouds."

Brittany sipped her water. She thought she would've felt more embarrassed, but for some reason she didn't.

"Let me make it up to you. I'm a great rapper," Brett said. _"My ride cold and my bitch hot. I'm tired as hell, but my dick not–"_

"Shut up," Santana told him.

"That was Lil Wayne, in case you were wondering."

…

"Thanks for letting me use your mouthwash," Brittany told Santana a few minutes later. "But why do you keep it in your purse?"

"Because it won't fit in my bra," Santana joked.

"I mean... why do you carry it with you?"

"Oh. No reason," Santana lied. The two hadn't returned to the rest of the group yet and even from this distance Santana could tell that Brett was getting antsy.

"I feel like Cinderella," Brittany said out of the blue.

"Why?"

Brittany shrugged and decided to change the subject. "Do you think I ruined my chances with Brett? I've never been kissed," she admitted quietly.

"He's not a very good kisser," Santana said slyly. "I should know – I tried to teach him." She contemplated waiting until after the game to introduce Brittany to Sam, but she thought better of it. "Come to think of it, I've kissed just about every guy in school. They all suck."

Brittany's eyes lit up. "So then… who should I kiss? I want to learn from the best."

"Me," Santana said suddenly. "You should kiss me."

…

Judy Fabray waited for Quinn to step off the field. "What's _wrong_ with you?" she asked her daughter. "How could you do that to your beautiful hair?"

Quinn gave her mother a crooked smile. "Just want to look my best for the wedding tomorrow."

"Don't be such a drama queen, Quinnie."

"You don't know anything about me!" Quinn yelled. She gestured to her crown. "I only wanted _this_ because you and Frannie had it first. And I don't know why it took me so long to figure that out."

"Quinn!" Russell called. "Don't you dare walk away from us!"

"No, let her go," Frannie told them. "This is all my fault anyway."

…

Brittany followed Santana over to a truck, which Santana said belonged to her friend Sam. She was glad for the privacy and that Santana had offered to kiss her. Her lips looked much more appealing than Brett's dry, chapped ones. Santana let down the tailgate and they both sat down, facing each other.

Santana brushed a piece of hair behind Brittany's ear. "Bet you never imagined your first kiss would be with a girl, huh?"

Brittany felt her face flush. "I'm going to kiss the best kisser at McKinley so I can't complain."

Santana leaned in closer so that their faces were only inches apart. "Your breath smells really good," she said, and before Brittany could respond, she pressed their lips together.

The buzzer signaling the end of the game sounded, causing Santana and Brittany to break apart giggling.

"Wasn't expecting that, Chickadee," Holly called, startling Brittany even more. She was standing a few feet away with her car keys in hand with an unreadable expression.

"Is that your mom?" Santana asked.

Brittany shook her head. "Nope. She's the one who taught me the condom trick."

"Time to go," Holly said more kindly than before.

Brittany hopped off the tailgate. "Bye," she said.

Santana watched Brittany walk away and touched her fingers to her lips. "Bye," she whispered.

"Turns out I didn't need to see those tight pants after all," Brittany mused as they climbed into the car.

Holly smiled. Brittany was happy and that was all that mattered.


End file.
